


untidy souls

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, akaashi character study??, akaashi-centric, food. lots of food, it was supposed to be shippy but then i started projecting on akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: snapshots of akaashi keiji and osamu miya finding each other again in the middle of a hot, humid california summer.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	untidy souls

**Author's Note:**

> quick cw for food, overthinking, and lack of plot. i made a tiny [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cIzWBXxwp2wSA0k25KNnA) for this fic if u wanna listen. enjoy :-)

when it happens, akaashi is 18, fresh out of high school, and reaching for the last egg tart in a foreign country. akaashi withdraws his hand as he realizes another has entered the glass display case. when he turns to glare at the person who’d taken the last pastry, akaashi is met with an unpleasantly familiar face. watching miya’s eyes widen fractionally, akaashi keiji wonders when exactly meeting miya osamu in a southern california suburb had become just another odd occurence to be filed away with the rest of the bizarre turns his life had taken. 

“akaashi keiji, right?”

akaashi stares. 

“i’ll buy ya a few from the next batch if ya’ll sit down and eat ‘em with me.”

akaashi finds his voice. “sure.”

they spend countless hours in that cafe, finding comfort in their mother tongue. akaashi discovers that osamu’s been working at various family-owned restaurants for the past few months. in turn, he reveals to osamu that bokuto would be joining the other miya twin on the msby black jackals back in japan. akaashi watches, amused, as osamu’s eyes widen comically. “that son of a bitch! dumbass never tells me anything anymore, i swear.” osamu whips out his phone to send what akaashi assumes is a text to the man in question. a lull in the conversation follows as osamu types furiously. 

“myaa-sam-”

“osamu! please.”

akaashi takes a deep breath. “osamu-san, do you regret it?”

osamu doesn’t look surprised by the question. “no. i can’t say i do. besides, if i didn’t quit i wouldn't be here with ya today!”

the lighthearted response takes akaashi by surprise. after years of living, sharing, and playing with a person who was essentially an extension of yourself, wouldn’t it hurt? how could it not hurt? _how could it not hurt, when just two years was more than enough for akaashi?_ he frowns.

“hey. ‘kaashi. i can tell ya’ve got questions for me. heck, who wouldn’t!” osamu kicks his chair back, placing his hands behind his head. “but the thing is, i’m happier this way. y’know, they weren’t wrong when they said codependency never turns out well. and even if i miss it sometimes, it’s not like ‘tsumu’s dead. he’s just a text away. i think- i think it was better for me to find my own path, as my own person. i could never be happy as just another member of ‘tsumu’s supporting cast.”

a member of the supporting cast. huh. is that all he’d been, too? 

_“i wanted to be wanted and he was_

_very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.”_

\- richard siken, “little beast”

⥈

they meet again, unexpectedly, in a supermarket. akaashi is standing in the produce section, deliberating between nanohana and daikon. he’d never been particularly fond of the latter, but after one of those countless times ~~koutarou~~ bokuto had looked at him with those puppy-dog eyes, akaashi found himself not minding the bitter flavor. he hadn’t had either since leaving japan. _and bokuto_ , his brain supplies. akaashi is startled out of his thoughts by a loud voice calling his name. 

“yo! ‘kaashi!” 

“osamu-san. i didn’t know you shopped here.”

“nah, but i was drivin’ by and saw your car.” blushing, osamu offers a blinding grin. “wanna grab some food?”

akaashi hesitates.

“i’ll pay!” 

this is more than enough to convince akaashi, who nods, placing his basket on his arm and following osamu to the food court inside the market. as they wait in line, akaashi wonders why (and how) osamu recognized his car. 

“hey, ‘kaashi.”

“hm?”

“why are you here? in the united states, i mean. ya must’ve gotten scouted by at least a few universities, no? why come to california?”

akaashi grimaces. he remembers the months leading up to his departure, a drunken boy with black-and-white spikes for hair stumbling across his doorway, a plea for him to stay. 

_“akaashi, are you leaving because of me? akaashi, i’ll love you if it makes you stay. please don’t leave me.”_

he still wasn’t too sure what he’d been escaping from.

pulling out a credit card, osamu pays and leads akaashi to a table, where they continue their conversation over kebabs and heavily-buttered rice. 

he looks at akaashi expectantly. 

“well,” he replies, “sometimes you just need a change.”

osamu seems satisfied with his answer, like he’d heard all the unspoken words akaashi was avoiding.

 _“i’ll love you if it makes you stay."_ at the time, akaashi was too scared to pick at the statement, to recognize the implications those words held. 

_no_ , he thinks. _it had been a bit too late for any amount of love to make me stay_. he buys the nanohana. 

_“but you’re so busy being afraid_

_to love or not_

_you're missing the fun of clothing yourself_

_in the embarrassment of life.”_

\- joy ladin, “survival guide”

⥈

the third time they meet, it’s on purpose. after their last lunch, akaashi had found a local korean restaurant while hunting down the particular brand of shrimp chips bokuto had hated (and akaashi loved). texting osamu a time and date, akaashi considers their previous conversation. what was he running from? what did he escape when he decided to move halfway across the world? was one failure really enough to scare him away? bokuto had always called akaashi strong. after last year’s defeats, he wondered how much of that strength had been reliant upon his former ace. did osamu feel the same without his twin, set adrift, floating over a deep ocean without a sense of purpose or direction? how much of osamu’s strength was borrowed from atsumu and how much had he given up after quitting? 

akaashi considers osamu's words from their first meeting over a bowl of steaming tofu soup. _"codependency never turns out well... i think it was better for me to find my own path."_ was it really codependency when akaashi had nothing left to offer bokuto?

a finger pokes his forehead, between his eyebrows. "i can _hear_ ya thinkin' from here. spit it out, 'kaashi." 

the words explode out of him. "how could you just give up? after everything you had - a partner, a plan, so many opportunities - how could you give that all up?" 

taken aback, osamu flinches. "it's like i told ya. i didn't want to hafta be 'half of the miya twins' for the rest of my life. hell, i can't even say enjoyed volleyball as much as 'tsumu. i never did. sure, it was fun, but that's all it was meant to be. no one wants to be chained to their highschool life forever."

_“you will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy.”_

\- c. joybell c.

⥈

“where are you taking me?” akaashi itches to pull the makeshift blindfold off his head. he can hear osamu’s grin in the way he replies. “shhh, i told ya it’d be a secret. to repay ya for last time.”

akaashi grumbles, his reply cut off by the car smoothly gliding to a stop. 

“we’ve arrived! you can take it off now!”

hesitantly prying the mass of black fabric off his face, akaashi reaches for his glasses and blinks into the light. “why’d you bring me to a place called...” he squints. “incense?” 

a bark of laughter escapes osamu’s mouth. akaashi watches, transfixed as his eyes sparkle in the midday sun. 

“read the english, ‘kaashi.”

“oh. tas-tasty garden?”

“yeah. this is a chinese restaurant. c’mon, let’s go inside! we can’t keep auntie zhao waiting!”

akaashi is left with no time to wonder who “auntie zhao” is as osamu drags him inside. 

it turns out that auntie zhao is the head cook. akaashi watches, completely fascinated, as they engage in an odd sort of conversation involving a mixture of hand signals, broken english, and bits of mandarin. looking at akaashi appraisingly, auntie zhao gives a quick, satisfied nod and flashes a thumbs-up at osamu. they are led to a card table flanked by two folding chairs. 

“you can speak mandarin?” akaashi’s surprised, especially after experiencing firsthand how terrible osamu’s english is. osamu smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “not really. i, uh, worked here for a few weeks, so i had to learn the menu.”

“then you should be able to order for us”, akaashi teases.

“oh, no. we won’t be ordering. we’ll be cooking today.” 

horrified, akaashi tries to refuse. “osamu-san, i don’t think that’s a very good idea-“

“yer not gettin’ out of this one that easily. c’mon, how bad can ya be?”

the answer? very, very bad. after akaashi almost slices his finger off for the third time chopping carrots, he is relegated to stirring the hotpot and watching the kitchen timer. 

“geez, 'kaashi. how’ve ya been survivin’ for the past few months?”

“ah. i’ve mostly been living off instant ramen and charity from the grandmother next door.” 

eyes widening, osamu immediately sets into motion. “damn! if ya’d told me earlier i would’ve cooked for ya way sooner. everyone deserves a good meal.”

warmth blooms inside akaashi. “i’ll be sure to take you up on that offer soon.”

later that night, akaashi sends a text. precisely one hour, twelve minutes, and 37 seconds later, a ding from his phone notifies him of a reply. 

**miya osamu**

>> it’s a date! i’ll pick u up @ ur place :)

<< Okay! See you tomorrow!

>> gn!!! sleep well <3

he doesn’t blush at the heart, but akaashi allows himself a small smile before placing his phone on the bedside table. maybe tomorrow he’d let himself indulge more. 

_“ours are untidy souls. both_

_are covered with scars.”_

\- marina tsvetaeva, “poem of the end”

⥈

akaashi looks at osamu out of the corner of his eye as they enter the restaurant. he observes the appraising look on osamu’s face. 

"man, i've been wantin' to come here forever. i haven't had good japanese food since i left!"

“thoughts?”

“this place - it's like what i want my restaurant to feel like. it reminds me of the gym, with all the open space and lights. ya know?”

“yeah.” akaashi knows. he knows the feeling of stepping under the bright fluorescent lights, the arching ceilings seeming impossibly high. the gym promises excitement, exhilaration, a chance at glory - but it also demands hard work and your very best efforts. it’s a feeling he’s not likely to ever forget. 

osamu grins. in the end, neither of them had been brave enough to keep up, to stay on that court. but now, akaashi was beginning to think he could find that same rush of exhilaration elsewhere - in the first bite of a shared meal, in late night texts, or maybe even in a now-familiar, warm voice.

“shall we?” 

akaashi reaches for osamu’s hand.

“itadakimasu!”

_“such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. but we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.”_

\- haruki murakami, “1Q84” 

**Author's Note:**

> hey! thanks for making it to the end of my first fic. fun fact this is set in irvine, california. i just *clenches fist* couldn't find the correct place to say they were in irvine. feedback, kudos, comments, bookmarks, shares, etc. are all really appreciated :-)


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